At The End of The Day
by KarenES
Summary: Multi-chapter response to the missing scenes challenge. Prompt: What happened in between the kiss in the limo after the CMA party and the impromptu performance of "At the End of the Day" on Deacon's couch? Episode 1x19, "Why Don't You Love Me?"
1. Chapter 1

_Quittin' the bottle at the end of the day,_

_Wanna be there for heaven, let it open the gate._

_I'll give up the lyin' if you're gonna stay;_

_I'll be quittin' at the end of the day_

The haunting words of the song Deacon had written for her, years ago, had been running through Rayna's head all evening.

She knew that the old song wasn't relevant any more. She had watched him get sober – and stay sober, rock steady sober, all these years. But Rayna had been reminded tonight of exactly how it felt, waiting for that other shoe to drop.

He stormed off, temper flaring; she couldn't find him. He hid out, ignoring her calls; she worried frantically. How could she possibly go through … _this_ … with him, all over again?

She said goodbye to her sister and stepped into the waiting limousine, settling herself and letting out a frustrated groan, running her fingers through her hair.

When the limo door opened a moment later and he stepped inside, the relief that flooded through her was palpable. Rayna tried to stifle the tears that welled up, tears of guilt and relief in equal measure, as she listened to him.

"You and me got so much damn water under our bridge, sometimes it's like we're drownin' in it," he said, his eyes shining with sincerity. "Aw, to hell with all that. What matters is you – an' me – right here, right now."

Rayna looked out the window into the rainy night, feeling a small sob briefly escape her lips.

"Hey, listen to me," he whispered, turning toward her. "You can tell me everything, an' you can tell me nothin' at all. But you can't tell me you don't love me. 'Cause that's the one thing I will never believe."

Rayna fought back the tears, her voice breaking.

"I _do_ love you. I love you so much."

She reached for him and leaned over to kiss him, the combination of heat and desperation in her touch surprising both of them.

Sitting in his truck waiting for her to leave the party, Deacon had tried to prepare himself for anything from her: Anger, recrimination, evasion. But the way she was kissing him now – with startling recklessness – had been the last thing he'd expected.

She had always been concerned about her public image, about propriety and good behavior, about shielding herself and her family from gossip and rumor. But now, she was moving across the backseat to him, pressing her body up against his, her hands on his head, eagerly pulling him toward her.

Deacon returned her kisses, his left arm wrapping around her waist, his whole body thrilling to her desire. Except for three minutes hiding out in the studio's guitar room - and a very sexy late-night phone call - they had not had any time alone together since that first night at his place.

If it was possible, he wanted her more right at that moment than he ever had in his life.

As the limousine sped away from the river, Rayna continued to kiss him hotly. Deacon could tell she'd been drinking, and probably on an empty stomach: She never could eat anything before a performance.

She gripped his shoulders and clambered onto his lap, straddling him, her knees pressed up against the seat back. She was undulating against him, never breaking their kiss. He slid his hands along her thighs and slowly up over her ass; she moaned hard against his mouth, her breath hitching sharply.

Her hair was draped thickly over him and he reached up to push it aside and take her face into his hands, brushing his fingers over her cheeks and encountering the dampness of spilled tears there.

She broke off kissing him for a moment and tossed her hair over her shoulder. Her voice came in a breathy whisper.

"I want you so much, babe."

"I want you too, Ray."

"You and me - right here, right now," she murmured against his mouth, continuing to kiss him.

"_Right now_?"

"Just like you said - that's all that matters."

She reached out the tip of her tongue and traced it over his lips, eliciting a moan from deep within him as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"God, you're gonna be the death of me, darlin'."

She smiled, so relieved to have him in her arms again, and pulled back to look at him.

"Least you'll die happy, Deacon."

"Oh yeah? You gonna guarantee that?"

"I am. Let me show you … let me show you how much I love you."

She resumed kissing him and slid both hands down his chest and over his stomach.

He held onto her waist, not sure how far she was going to take this. Then he felt her fingers dipping into the front of his slacks.

She was dead serious.

He braced himself for her touch just as the limo swerved and she was thrown off balance.

Deacon caught her and looked up in time to meet the driver's creepy, curious stare, focused directly on them in the rear view mirror.

He sat up straighter and leaned forward, furious.

"Hey, buddy! Eyes on the road!" he barked, and the man's gaze quickly shifted away.

Rayna seemed not to notice, quickly settling back into his lap and reaching for him again.

He froze, grabbing both her wrists.

"Hang on, darlin'," he said under his breath, glancing out the window and realizing they were in East Nashville, not far from his house.

"Babe, I want you … I want to show you …"

She was struggling to pull her hands from his grasp.

"Rayna ... we're not alone."

She paused and looked at him.

Deacon inclined his head toward the front seat and realization dawned over her. Both of them knew about the money that the gossip rags and celebrity websites paid for breathless, "eyewitness accounts" of celebrities behaving badly.

All of them - Maddie and Daphne particularly - had been dragged through the mud pretty thoroughly lately; they could not possibly put themselves in line for any more nasty public scrutiny.

Rayna collapsed onto him, groaning in quiet frustration, and buried her face in his shoulder as his arms enveloped her.

"Can you come over to my place?" he whispered.

"Yeah. I got a babysitter. She's staying overnight with the girls."

"Good."

Deacon wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her on his lap, and leaned forward, gruffly delivering his address to the driver.

They arrived in front of his house a few minutes later. Rayna climbed off his lap and got out of the car when the driver opened the door. Deacon followed, digging out his wallet.

"It's paid for, babe. Marshall's got it."

"I know, I'm givin' him a tip."

"Really? Why?"

"Safer that way. Makes things worse if you piss 'em off."

Deacon grimly pulled a bill out and approached the driver, handing it to him.

"Not what TMZ pays, huh? Sorry."

The man didn't say a word, simply taking the money from his hand, closing the car door and walking back to the driver's seat.

The limo slunk away a moment later.


	2. Chapter 2

_Don't say it's over, I'm-a change what I've done;_

_Gonna lay down beside you, gonna lay down my gun._

_The struggle ain't over, but I hope you will stay;_

_'Cause I'm quittin' at the end of the day._

Deacon took Rayna's hand and led her up his driveway, unlocking his back door and pulling her inside.

"C'mon in here," he said, walking directly through the dark house and into his bedroom, shedding his jacket along the way.

Rayna followed him, pulling her jacket off and dropping it on his dresser. He turned on a lamp, clicking just once so the light was soft, and turned toward her, embracing her tightly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply and pushing him back against the bed.

He leaned on the edge of the bed for a moment, then suddenly pulled away from her, sitting back on the mattress and propping a pillow against the window blinds behind him, kicking off his shoes and stretching his legs out over the covers.

Rayna started to climb on top of him, but he stopped her, putting his hands gently on her shoulders and holding her at arm's length.

"Stay over there," he said, his voice husky.

"What? Why?"

"I want you to take your clothes off. I … wanna watch."

Rayna froze, feeling the color rise hotly over her face at his words. She swallowed hard, nervous suddenly.

A thought that had been hovering in the back of her mind for the past couple of days surfaced just then. While she had spent the last 14 years twice becoming a mother, in a monogamous relationship best described as "plain vanilla," she knew that Deacon's experience since they had been apart had been … very different.

There was something intimidating about that. After the first flush wore off, would he find her … inadequate, somehow? Or worse yet … boring?

Rayna took a deep breath, hesitating a moment longer as insecurity gripped her. He was leaning back against the pillow, his arms folded behind his head, looking at her with an inscrutable expression.

"Go ahead, darlin'," he said softly.

Rayna swallowed again, realizing that she was trembling - and incredibly turned on. She stepped back to the center of the room, facing him. She eased her black, sheer blouse out of her pants and reached around to undo the row of black velvet-covered buttons at the nape of her neck. She slipped it over her head and dropped it on the floor, emerging from the mass of her hair to find him smiling at her.

Emboldened, she smiled back. Two could play at this game.

"What about you? Don't I get to watch, too?"

"Fair 'nough."

He sat up, undid the center buttons on his white shirt and, in one swift motion, yanked it out of his pants and over his head, tossing it across the bed.

"Pretty smooth," she said, admiring his bare chest.

He grinned and leaned back, propping his arms behind his head again, causing Rayna's knees to momentarily wobble.

"Your turn."

Rayna took a deep breath and looked down, reaching for her ornate belt buckle and sending a silent word of thanks to the trainer who had kicked her ass for months to get her in shape for this tour.

But when she looked up, Deacon was shaking his head.

"No. Not yet."

She felt the blush spreading down her neck and over her bare collarbone now, reddening her chest. She stared at him, then reached back and grasped the clasp on her black lace bra, arching her back, her breath coming quickly, her eyes never leaving his.

"That's it … don't rush."

She unhooked her three bra clasps excruciatingly slowly, pausing between each one. Then, as the garment came loose, she crisscrossed her arms over her chest, hooking her pinkies in the straps and lowering them inch by inch, trailing her dark fingernails slowly down the length of her bare arms.

Just before she was exposed fully, Rayna leaned forward and shook her head so her hair fell over her shoulders, partially covering her breasts. Ever so gently, she allowed the black lacy brassiere to slide off her wrists and drop softly onto the floor.

Deacon had not moved a muscle during this performance, but she could hear his raspy breathing coming from the bed a few feet away. Rayna steeled herself and straightened up, tossing her hair back over her shoulders and meeting his gaze fully.

"Was that slow enough for you?"

Stunned for a moment, he broke into a wicked smile.

"That was perfect. You're perfect."

"Your turn."

He raised his eyebrows, appreciating how quickly she had gotten into this game, and stood up next to the bed, facing her. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his black slacks, letting them pool at his feet and then stepping out of them.

Rayna stared pointedly at the front of his boxers, delighted with the obvious effect she was having on him. Then she reached again for her belt, not needing direction this time, and unbuckled it, kicking off her shoes and stepping quickly out of her pants and her panties together.

She took a step toward him, fully naked now in the soft lamplight.

"Rayna … you're so beautiful."

His voice sounded strangled. He started to walk toward her.

But she put her hand up, stopping him.

"Stay over there."

She went to him instead, positioning her body as close as she could possibly get without actually making skin contact.

He shivered and closed his eyes as she passed her face across the left side of his neck; he could feel her breath hot on his collarbone as her hair brushed over his shoulders and tickled his chest.

He needed so badly to take her in his arms, to push her down underneath him and be inside of her.

But Rayna was clearly enjoying herself, showing him she could meet him and match him. He forced himself to stay still as she stood close to him for a long moment, goose bumps prickling up on his skin.

Just when he thought he couldn't hold back any longer, she brought both her hands up to his waist and took hold of his sides, leaning back and looking up, her gaze smoldering as it met his. Her touch made him tremble, but he held her eyes as her hands slid gradually downward, her thumbs slipping inside the waistband of his shorts.

She pulled them down slowly, following them with her body until she was kneeling on the floor in front of him.

He looked down at her, his breath coming hard. She was staring up at him, her eyes shining.

"Rayna. You … you don't have to …."

She tossed her hair back again, looking so beautiful, naked in front of him.

"I want to, babe. I want to show you … I want to show you how much I love you."


	3. Chapter 3

_Hold on, a couple more hours; _

_I'll be home, ready to lay in your arms._

_Don't change your mind._

"Sleepy?"

"Umm … not really. You?"

"Nope. Not while I got you here with me."

Late evening had long since become early morning, and all around them on his bed, pillows, sheets and blankets were strewn in disheveled heaps. Rayna and Deacon lay facing each other, side-by-side, an island of calm amidst the chaos, utterly lost in the depths of one another's eyes.

Her left index finger was tracing a path from his right ear lobe to the cleft in his chin, drawing itself gently, over and over, through the stubble of his beard. She paused every so often to drop a kiss on his mouth, or his forehead, or his cheek, or the tip of his nose.

His right fingers were moving slowly across her left cheekbone and then raking through her hair, from her scalp down over her shoulders and onto her bare back.

She sighed and stretched her legs out, twining them up with his.

He smiled, his dimples flashing.

"I like it when our legs get all tangled up together."

"I like being naked with you."

He moaned softly at her words, leaning in to kiss her mouth.

"You know what I am?"

"The most beautiful woman in the world?"

She laughed softly.

"Oh, man. You're shameless, Deacon Claybourne."

"No, just honest. Uh ... I'm gonna say - horny?"

"Well … yeah. But I was gonna say - starving."

"You too? Thought you might'a heard my stomach growlin' before."

"All that food on the buffet line and I never can eat a thing at those parties."

"I know."

"You got anything in this house?"

"Yeah, we just … uh, I … I just went shoppin' a few days ago. Think I could rustle us up somethin' if you like."

"I'm not eating Spaghetti-O's, Deacon. Just saying."

"You know me too well, Ray."

"Funny. I told Tandy the same thing about you, earlier tonight."

He studied her, still drawing his fingers through her hair, then rubbed his nose against hers.

"Water under our bridge?"

"Yup. Too cold to swim tonight, though."

"Agreed."

"Soooo … you got a loaf of bread and maybe some eggs?"

"Think so."

"I could make you one of those fried egg sandwiches you used to like."

"Mmmm … I forgot all about those. I'd love that, darlin'."

"Okay. But you gotta do something for me."

He grinned, raising his eyebrows and leaning in to kiss her softly.

"Absolutely anything you want, any time you want it."

She laughed.

"Okaaaaay - that sounds promising. But I was thinking about you getting your guitar out and playing me some songs. The really old stuff we used to do, those first few summers we toured together. Do you remember any of that music?

"What, like 'Postcard From Mexico'? Looked like you remembered that one just fine the other night."

She stared at him for a moment, catching the challenge in his eyes, but decided not to take the bait.

"I was thinking more along the lines of, 'At The End of the Day.' Remember that one? I can't get it out of my head tonight. And 'Don't Leave Without Me,' 'That Could Be Us,' 'No One Will Ever Love You,' - songs like that."

"Sure. I know exactly where all that music is, too. I dug it out when we were talkin' about doin' that tour last year."

"Good. You want to sing a few after we eat something?"

"Sure, that'd be fun."

Deacon kissed her forehead and then rolled over, sitting up on the edge of the bed with his back to her. He pulled open a dresser drawer, but before he could reach inside, Rayna was pressed up against his back, slipping her arms around his chest and kissing the back of his neck, her hair trailing over his shoulders.

"Hey," he said, turning to look at her and smiling quizzically. "I thought you were hungry. You wanna eat or not?"

She rested her chin on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I do. I just … I hate to leave this bed, is all."

"Well, you stay right here and I'll bring you a fork an' a nice can of spaghetti. Perfectly good eatin'."

"Ugh," she sighed, leaning around to kiss his cheek. "That's it, let's go."

"We'll be back before long, Ray. I promise."

Rayna tore herself away from him and scooted over to her side of the bed, looking down at their fancy party clothes strewn all across the floor.

She looked over at Deacon, who was putting on a pair of navy sweatpants.

"Uh … you got a robe or something?"

He stood up and pulled a dark blue, V-necked T-shirt over his head.

"Darlin', seein' you in my kitchen, wearin' nothin' but your birthday suit? That'd probably make my year."

"Oh, I don't doubt that for one minute, Deacon. But cooking and birthday suits don't exactly go together, you know?"

"Well, shit. I guess you got a point there. Lemme see …"

He walked over to his closet and rummaged for a moment, finally pulling out one of his blue plaid shirts and holding it up for her.

"You used to be kind'a partial to runnin' around in one of these, as I recall."

She smiled and walked over to him, reaching for the soft flannel shirt.

"That's right, I did."

He held it open for her as she turned and slipped her arms into the over-sized sleeves. He reached around her from behind and started buttoning from the bottom up as she worked her way from the top down. Their hands met in the middle and he pulled her back into his chest, burying his face in her hair.

"Mmmm … that's why I love these shirts."

"Why?"

"They're the next best thing to being wrapped up in you."

He smiled, his eyes closed.

"I'll tell you something funny. I have one of these - one of your old ones - stashed in the back of my closet at home."

"Really? Why would you do that?"

"I dunno. Just … sentimental, I guess. Reminded me of being with you, all these years."

He moaned softly, this little secret confirming so many of his lonely, late-night fantasies that he scarcely knew what to do with it.

"That's awful sweet," he said, tightening his left arm around her and sweeping the hair off the back of her neck with his right hand, so he could kiss her there. She moaned quietly and leaned back into him, enjoying the feel of his mouth on the nape of her neck. Very quickly, Deacon felt himself getting hard again.

This time, she turned and looked at him with a teasing smile.

"Really, Deacon? Man, you got some staying power."

"Maybe we can set a record. Whaddaya think?"

They stared at each other for a moment and then both burst out laughing.

"Jesus, were we this bad when we were teenagers?"

"I dunno, Ray. But you were about ready to do it in the back seat of a car a while ago. That brought back a few memories."

"Oh my god, I know. It was the bed of your pickup, though, remember?"

"Oh, I remember. I wouldn't be surprised if we _still_ hold that particular record. Maybe we ought'a check with the Ford Motor Company."

She was laughing helplessly by now, her hands covering her mouth.

"Stop it! I really do think it's worse this time around, though."

He was laughing hard now, too, his hands on her shoulders for support.

"I'm thinkin' it's more like ... cats in heat."

"Well, at this rate, we're both gonna die of starvation before we ever make it out of this room."

At that, he took a deep breath and straightened up.

"All right, somebody's gotta be the grown-up here, an' I can see it's not gonna be you, Ray."

She continued laughing as he took her hand and headed resolutely for the door.

"I sure as hell can't let you starve, darlin'. Edgehill would have my ass on a platter. Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

_Done with the cheatin' that drove you away;_

_But you'll give me forgiveness if I promise to change._

_I told you it's over, so what else can I say?_

_I'll be quittin' at the end of the day._

Rayna hummed when she cooked, or when she was happily engaged in any mundane task. Deacon couldn't believe he'd forgotten that about her.

Right now, she was busy in his refrigerator, shifting items from shelf to shelf, humming one of their old songs. He was leaning on the kitchen counter, watching her and smiling.

She extracted a carton of eggs, a plastic bag of grated Cheddar and a stick of butter and carried them over to the stove. She glanced over at him.

"Hey, what're you lookin' at over there?"

"You."

"Me, not in my birthday suit. Sorry about that, babe."

"Yeah, that's disappointin'. But the view's not really so bad, anyway."

She smiled at him.

"Hey, get me a ... skillet and a spatula, would you? And you can toast the bread."

"Sure."

He rummaged around in his cabinets and handed her what she needed.

She put a pat of butter into the pan and turned on the burner, singing under her breath now.

_"This, us … look at the two of us … back to lovin' again, oh …"_

He joined in, harmonizing on the next line.

_"This, us … you an' me, baby, back together again..."_

He lined up four slices of bread in the toaster and pushed the lever down.

"'Back Together Again' … there's a classic for ya, Ray. What was that … '98?"

"Oh god, no. I'd say '95 … or maybe '94? We wrote that after – what – our second big breakup? Third?"

"Well, if you're talkin' break-ups and make-ups, that's a long list, Ray," he said, shaking his head. "What number does that make this one?"

"This one? Oh, this one doesn't even count. This one's not on the list, babe. This one's epic."

He walked up behind where she was standing at the stove, spatula in hand, hovering over a couple of frying eggs, and put his arms around her.

"Epic, huh? I hope to god you're talkin' about the sex, Ray."

She laughed and turned around, looking up at him.

"Mmmmm … yeah, epic's a pretty good word for that, I'd say," she smiled, reaching up to kiss him. "You still got it, babe."

"I do, huh? Good to know. That's what I figured, from the sound of it. Just wanted to make sure."

He released her and walked over to the far cupboard, taking out two plates and setting them next to the toaster.

She stared at him.

"From the _sound of_ … what? Oh god, Deacon. Was I … _loud_?"

He turned around and studied her, a terribly serious expression on his face.

"Well … let's put it this way, Ray: The windows weren't open, so I don't think the neighbors are gonna complain. But … you always did have a mouth on you."

She gasped and lunged toward him, swatting at him with the spatula. He dodged out of her way, laughing and just missing a blow on the arm.

She was laughing, too, and blushing furiously.

"Jesus, Deacon!" she said, looking at him, her mouth open in astonishment. Then she rolled her eyes and turned back to the stove. "Well, now I'm kind of … I dunno, I'm kind of embarrassed."

He walked over behind her and put his arms around her again.

"Don't be, darlin'. It's sexy as hell, I swear. I love it."

She turned around and buried her face in his chest.

He kissed the top of her head.

"I love you, too, by the way. I can't even remember if I said that the other night."

"You did," she responded, looking up at him. "In your sleep. It was sweet."

He kissed her mouth, smiling to himself as he realized how much trouble he was having keeping his hands off her, even for a few minutes. The toaster popped and gave him a reason to pull himself away. He took the slices out, buttering them and lining up two on each plate.

Rayna flipped the eggs, sprinkling the undersides with salt and pepper and then shaking cheese over each one.

"But … you didn't need to say it, really, Deacon. I mean, all these years … I guess I always knew. And then, after Chicago …"

Deacon handed over the plates and Rayna layered fried eggs on two of the toast slices, making sure there was plenty of melted cheese on each one, and placed the remaining buttered slices on top.

"Chicago? Yeah, I guess assaultin' you in an elevator wasn't exactly my most subtle move ever, huh?"

Deacon took the plates to the table and pulled a stool out for her, handing her a napkin as she sat down. Then he walked to the fridge and opened it.

"Well, you weren't the only one doing the kissing in that elevator."

"Nope. I started it, but I sure as hell wasn't the only one participatin', Ray. I got that, believe me. Hey, whaddya want to drink? I can make us some coffee …"

"I'll never sleep."

"Ummm … O.J.? Milk?"

"Skim?"

"Yup."

"That's good."

He poured out two glasses and brought them to the table, sitting down across from her.

"Can you imagine us, back in the day, sittin' home in our jammies drinkin' milk on a Saturday night?"

She smiled.

"Not even close, babe. It's fun, though."

"Yeah. It is."

She reached for him and they held hands across the table, munching quietly on their sandwiches and gazing at each other once again.

"This is delicious. I forgot how much I liked these."

"I can make you another one, if you want."

"Nope. Thanks, though, this hits the spot just right."

She took a deep breath and shook her head.

"Man, that night in Chicago, Deacon. You just _left me there _in that elevator. I got up to my room, I was about climbing the walls, I swear. I wanted you so bad."

"Hmmm…"

"Here's what you get for not checking your phone: I even texted you. I wanted you to come up and … _talk_."

"Oh, I got the message. And I knew exactly what you meant by _talk,"_ he said, grinning. "I was on that elevator so fast it would'a made your head spin."

"You were? But ..."

"I got up to your floor and there was Teddy, larger than life, right on your doorstep."

"No! Really?"

"He didn't see me, don't worry. I figured he must'a been there to surprise you. You sure as hell wouldn't ask me up there if you knew he was on his way. It was only later, when I put a few things together, that I figured out he must'a been there about the divorce."

"To ask me for a divorce, you mean. And then he insisted we had to tell the girls right away. It just … it threw me so bad. I wasn't expecting any of it. And then I found out he was cheating, and I figured out that's why he was in such a fucking hurry."

Deacon squeezed her hand.

"I'm sorry, darlin'. I knew somethin' was wrong when you missed that cue in Atlanta. All these years and I just never seen that happen before."

"I wish I could've talked to you about it, Deacon. I really … I dunno. I couldn't face you."

"Guess you could talk to Liam about it, though, huh?"

She looked up at him, her eyes uncertain.

"What happened between the two of you that night anyway, Ray?"

Rayna furrowed her brow, confused and more than a little annoyed, and stared at Deacon for a long moment.

"Y'know what? I really don't think you get to ask me about Liam, Deacon."

"I'm askin', Ray."

He had that _fucking stubborn _look on his face that she knew so well.

"Why? Does it matter? I mean, does it make a difference … between you and me?"

He looked straight into her eyes and his expression softened.

"No. 'Course it doesn't, Ray."

He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm.

"It makes a difference … between me an' him."

"Oh god, Deacon. You're such a guy."

"Damn straight, Ray. Guilty as charged."

"Babe …"

"Rayna. Just be honest with me."

She sighed and rolled her eyes, pulling her hand back and running it through her hair.

"Okay, Deacon, you win. Brace yourself."

He took a deep breath and his jaw tightened. He continued to stare at her, stony-eyed now.

"Liam showed up after that concert in Atlanta, an' he wanted to take me out. And I just couldn't go back to an empty hotel room that night. I dunno, I … I wanted to go out, and get drunk, and not think about Teddy, or the girls – or you."

"Uh-huh…"

"So … Liam and I went out dancing, and we did a few shots, and then we went back to his hotel room …"

The look in his eyes had turned grim by now.

"And … um … he kissed me. And I kissed him. And … then I went into his bathroom and started bawlin' like a baby."

He looked confused.

"And then we spent the next couple hours sitting on his bathroom floor, talking about marriage, and divorce, and his parents, and my girls. And he held my hand, and told me I was going to be okay, and the girls were going to survive. Just like he did when he was a kid and his parents split up."

Rayna took in the astonishment on Deacon's face with more than a little satisfaction.

"And … then I went back to my room, and crashed for a couple of hours, and got up and packed. And when I got to the bus, someone who seemed to know all about what I was doing the night before told me off."

"But, so you two didn't …? But you said the other night you were goin' away with him. An' I thought … I mean, the way he was pawin' all over you on that stage, _Jesus_ …"

"Well, I did plan to go to St. Lucia with him. But damn it, Deacon, you were with Stacey. It looked like the two of you were settling down for good - you were getting off the road, you had the dog, the whole bit. I mean, it about killed me, but ... I thought you were moving on with your life and you wanted me to move on with my life. So, I was trying. What else was I supposed to do?"

He reached for her hand again and brought it to his mouth, kissing her palm softly once more.

"I'm sorry, Ray. I know … it must'a been confusing. I … was confused, too. Me and Stacey – we tried, but … I just couldn't get you outta my blood, is all. She figured that out before I really knew it myself."

Rayna sighed and looked at him. Then she leaned across the table and wiped a crumb from his beard with her thumb, kissing him softly.

"Well, I'm glad somebody was smart enough to figure things out for us, Deacon. Lord knows we haven't been any good at doing it ourselves. If it was up to the two of us, we might never have ..."

She stopped and threw him a supremely naughty look, one that made him laugh out loud.

"What, you mean we ... might not be here ... drinkin' our milk right now?"

"Yeah, right, that's exactly what I mean."

They laughed as she sat back down across from him. Then he looked away and sighed.

"Well, I feel pretty awful about … that whole thing with Stacey, to tell you the truth. And ... and I know that what happened between you an' Liam isn't any of my business but … thanks for tellin' me, anyway. I mean, I hated watchin' him tryin' to get into your pants, I really did."

"Well, talk about feeling awful. Liam's not gonna return my calls for six months, I bet."

"Fine with me. Let's make it a year."

"Oh, Deacon, honestly!"

"I am what I am, Ray."

"That's for damn sure, babe. Hey, I'm full. Did you get enough to eat?"

"Sure did, thank you. It was delicious."

She stood and began clearing the table, but he took her arm, stopping her.

"Hey, don't worry about that. I'll do it later."

He stood up, gathering the milk and the butter and the cheese and the eggs in his arms and putting them back in the refrigerator.

"Gimme a minute and I'll go see about that music."


	5. Chapter 5

_But don't say it's over, I'm-a fix what I've done;_

_Gonna lay down beside you, gonna lay down my gun._

_The struggle ain't over, but I hope you will stay;_

_'Cause I'm quittin' at the end of the day._

Rayna settled down on the couch in the living room as Deacon pulled out his guitar and rummaged around in a file cabinet, taking out a folder full of sheet music. Then he disappeared and came back carrying an armful of candles.

"Look at you, babe. What a romantic. That's why I love you, you know."

"Oh, so it's my poetic soul that turns you on, huh?"

She looked up at him through her eyelashes, coyly.

"Well, that and … a few other things."

He chuckled.

"Bad girl."

He fished a book of matches out of a drawer and lit the candles, turning the lights in the room down.

"Hell, if we're gonna have this little sing along, we might as well do it up right, the way I figure it."

"Fine with me."

She curled her legs underneath her and he sat down beside her, tuning his guitar and propping his bare feet up on the coffeetable. She leaned her knees up against his thigh and rested her hand on his arm.

For the next hour they took a musical trip down memory lane, foreheads inclined together, kissing softly and crooning one old love song after another as the candles burned down.

Finally, he brought out the music she'd been waiting for all night.

_"Quittin' the bottle, at the end of the day …"_

Her voice was clear and high, pouring out his poignant words about love and longing, good intentions and broken promises. The beautiful melody wrapped itself around the plaintive hope of redemption.

There was something about this wistful song, something about his plea for forgiveness, that had always touched her deeply.

He leaned over as the last notes of the song died away and their lips met, lingering a moment. He finished strumming and reached his hand over and rested it on her knee; she took his fingers in her own and caressed them.

"I still love that song so much."

"God, this feels so right. I wish we could'a done it years ago."

Rayna watched the wax slowly dripping down the side of a candle.

Deacon sighed.

"Who knows? We might'a had a family of our own by now."

He reached over and kissed her temple, but Rayna turned her face away, afraid he would see the guilt written large there.

_One day, she would need forgiveness, too._

"What'sa matter, darlin'? Gettin' tired?"

"Yeah, I guess. I hate to stop singing, though. These old songs are so great."

"We got all the time in the world to sing together, Ray. Maybe we'll even get to do that tour we talked about."

She smiled at him and stretched.

"That'd be nice," she said, climbing off the couch. He stood up and gathered his music, putting his guitar in its case on the floor.

"I'm gonna put this stuff away and lock up. Meet you in the bedroom?"

She smiled at him.

"Okay."

"Hey, look in the bathroom cabinet. I bought you some stuff."

"Really? Better watch out, Deacon, next thing you know I'll be wanting a drawer."

"Darlin', you can show up on my doorstep any day, bags and baggage, an' stay here whenever you like, for as long as you like, as far as I'm concerned."

She looked at him, her brow furrowed slightly.

"When you're _ready,_ Ray. That's all I mean."

She smiled and walked into his bedroom, straightening the crumpled bedcovers and scooping up their discarded clothing and tossing it into a corner. In the bathroom she opened the cabinet, pulling out a drugstore bag and finding a toothbrush, a hairbrush, a bottle of baby oil and four small tubes of toothpaste inside.

She examined them, guessing that he wasn't sure which brand she liked, so he decided to buy them all rather than get the wrong one. She got ready for bed, taking her makeup off with the baby oil – a product he must have remembered from when she was a teenager, which was the last time she'd used it. Then she walked over to her side of the bed and took off his shirt, laying it on a chair.

She slipped under the covers naked, stretching out with a happy sigh, enveloped in the sheets that smelled like him, her head nestled on his soft pillow.

When she opened her eyes, he was lying under the covers with her, stroking her hair. The room was dark except for a candle flickering on the dresser next to him, casting shadows across the walls.

"Hey," she whispered, reaching her left hand out and resting it on his chest.

"Hey, darlin'. You dozed off on me."

"Sorry. I'm awake now."

"It's okay. Go back to sleep, you're tired."

"Really? No ..."

"Yeah. We'll be right here in the mornin'."

"We will, won't we? I love knowing that."

"Me too. Tomorrow mornin' I'm … gonna show you how much I love you."

"Mmmm … sounds like a date."

"Count on it."

He kissed her forehead and watched her as she started to drift away from him. Then her eyes fluttered open again.

"Hey, Deacon … you know what I am?"

"Not a clue."

"Happiest woman in the world."

He smiled and kissed her forehead again, smoothing her hair back over her shoulders.

"I'm glad. G'night, Ray."

"'Night, Deacon."

Her breathing started to deepen and he could see her body relaxing. He rolled over and blew out the candle, plunging the room into darkness.

He settled the pillow under his head and turned back toward her, wrapping his arm around her.

Rayna sighed.

"Deacon?"

"Shhhh … what is it, darlin'?"

"Keep the windows closed, okay?"

He laughed softly.

"Don't worry, I will."

The End

_A/N: Thanks so much for all the feedback and encouragement on this one, and special thanks to Shiny Jewel for coming up with the prompt that turned out to be so much fun to write. Karen_


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